


Intrigue in the Woods

by alba17



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Devotion, F/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Revenge, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:16:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1662731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agravaine lives to serve his mistress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intrigue in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hanorganaas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanorganaas/gifts).



> Written for 1-million-words weekend challenge, for theladymore's prompt, Morgana/Agravaine. I always figured Agravaine had a thing for Morgana.

Agravaine slipped into one of Camelot’s secret passageways, one not even Merlin knew about. No one saw his features change as he shed the mask he was forced to wear in service to his lady. It could be difficult at times, but he was glad to do it. Morgana was worth it.

The forest swallowed him, dark, its branches thick with foliage, a natural cloak against those who might observe him. A thick layer of leaves muffled his footsteps and the hooting of an owl accompanied his progress. Into the depths of the woods he walked, where he could finally relax, away from the many prying eyes of the castle, especially that snotnosed Merlin, whom he was sure wasn’t as simple-minded as he seemed. It was a relief to be away from the ever-present Pendragon crest. Its aggressive, pugnacious red made him want to tear his eyes out. 

When he was apart from Morgana, it was like a physical ache. He needed her presence, the light of her eyes, so blue, and the glow of her pale, pale skin; the flicker of magic throbbing between them like lightning on a summer night. As he neared the clearing, the forest gradually brightened and his breath came more quickly. She was near.

He tore open the door of the hut, the humble woodsman’s abode she’d taken over as a respite from her defeat, a place to renew her energy and launch another attack on Camelot. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, his gaze darting around to find her. When he finally discerned her beautiful face, staring into the fire with eyes like the targets the knights trained with, he rushed over to her. 

“Morgana! I’m here.”

She looked at him as if he were invisible. He took hold of her arms and shook her. “It’s Agravaine, darling.”

She came to abruptly, focusing on him as if she could see into his soul. He almost started, so profound was the impact of her gaze. “Oh, yes. Hello.” She put a hand to her forehead, gathering herself. “I wasn’t here...I was...somewhere else.”

He stroked her arm. “I know, dear. It’s all right. Did you see anything of interest?”

She frowned. “No, just the usual. Arthur diddling with Merlin, god knows what they see in each other. But perhaps it will serve as a distraction. He still trusts you, yes?”

“Oh yes, milady.”

Her attention focused on him and her entire body seemed to shift in his direction. “Excellent. He has no suspicions?”

“None. I’m his loyal Uncle Agravaine, as far as he knows.”

Morgana smirked. “Then all is as it should be.” She leaned towards him. “I’m indebted to you, Agravaine de Bois.”

His heart thumped. “I’m in your service, Lady Morgana. Always.”

She touched his hand, then curled her delicate fingers around his. “Yes. I’m so grateful.” Her thumb caressed his palm. A thread of desire coiled in his gut.

“I’m so glad,” he murmured, the words like smoke in his throat, a touch of pain tinged with want.

“You are my loyal servant, are you not?” Morgana said, her voice matching his low tones as she reached her arm around his shoulder.

His breath caught in his throat. “Of course. How could I not be?”

Her face looked up into his, the light catching it like a priceless gem. She was so beautiful. 

He kissed her, Her lips were cold at first, then they warmed up as they pressed together. Their bodies found the familiar nooks and crannies where they filled each other’s emptiness. He thrilled to these moments when everything seemed perfect, when Morgana opened herself to him and all was right with the world.

She sighed, and he didn’t know if she was urging him on or pushing him away. Suddenly her black rags opened and her hand brought his between her legs. The heat was shocking, soft and wet. Her eyes flashed at him, his fingers sought the spot that would make her writhe with pleasure. 

Her thighs bore down and her breath caught, her mouth falling open. He captured her lips with his own even as he pressed in with his hand against the slick sluice that made her moan, enraptured.

He lived for this. He was hard, his cock thick with arousal, but his own pleasure was beside the point when he could send her into such a state, her head flung back, forehead damp with sweat.

“My darling.” He kissed the vulnerable arch of her neck, bleached bone against the dark of her hair and clothing. She panted against his cheek as his fingers worked, then abruptly she pushed him into the one chair in the hut and straddled him, her skirts hiked up her thighs, and plunged his cock inside her.

They both groaned and hissed with the impact. He thrust up into her. She clamped her hands on his shoulders. “Fuck me, Agravaine,” she commanded into his ear in a gravelly voice. “You know how to do it.”

“Yes!” He pumped up into her. “Yes, milady!” His cock was a giant cleaving her in two, or so it felt as he rammed into her. Her hips rhythmically worked against his until they gasped in unison, the tension rising, the pleasure building. Her eyes flashed golden, her nails dug into his flesh, and he could feel her power growing, replenishing, and then she called out, an unearthly shriek that plowed through him with such force he had to let go, releasing his seed inside her.

For one moment her face glowed with ghostly pallor, then she gripped his cheeks with needy fingers. “The Pendragons will perish,” she said. “You shall make it happen.” 

“Morgana, my sweet, I want nothing more.” His hands clasped her hips and he quivered with the force of their climax, the strength of her fury. A melting softness still throbbed between them.

She slapped him, hard on the face. “Camelot will be mine.” Her lips were lines of granite.

He shut down a fraction, yet another part of him thrilled to the violence, the wildness of her will. “It will. I will make sure of it.” 

She slid off him, her skirts whispering over his bare thighs. “See that you do.”


End file.
